


Red

by dont_wear_it_out



Category: Green Day
Genre: Band, Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, Drums, Green Day - Freeform, Hot, Lust, M/M, Male Slash, Musical Instruments, One Shot, Punk Rock, Rating: M, Red - Freeform, Singing, Slash, Yaoi, billie joe armstrong - Freeform, mike dirnt - Freeform, tre cool - Freeform, tre/billie, trillie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-19
Updated: 2015-09-19
Packaged: 2018-04-21 11:29:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4827503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dont_wear_it_out/pseuds/dont_wear_it_out
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When exhaustion strikes, other feelings comes with it: Desperation, passion, lust. After an intense band practice, attraction hangs heavy in the air, and Billie and Tré can't resist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any people mentioned in this story, and the events described are 100% fictional. ❤

The stage was incredibly hot. The air was so thick and soupy that it could probably be cut with a knife, suffocating anyone who inhaled it. Blaring lights the color of blood beat down on the backs of the band. Sweat dripped into colored hairlines, and the hall echoed their practice with the lack of a crowd. Mike's shaky fingers slid against the neck of the bass, Tré's heavy, bloodless foot pounded on the bass drum, and Billie's chest heaved as he attempted to heave the notes from his throat. 

It was raw, it was desperate, it was heated. It was chafing, blistering and burning. It was uncomfortable and painful, and it was amazing.

The three slammed the last note of their practice, and Mike slumped against the wall in exhaustion. All stood panting. Billie looked ready to pass out, but there was a hungry, almost primal glint in his eye, one that Tré didn't fail to notice. 

For Billie and Tré, with exhaustion came another emotion, tangled like two tiny threads: lust. The red of the lights burned in their veins, the heat pulsing in their chests- an ancient song no one could play, but everyone knew. It meant the cold bite of the steel stage floor against sweat-drenched skin, it meant hot, chafing breath from one mouth to the other, it meant teeth trailing fire across hypersensitive skin. 

Burning kisses against a pale throat acted as a brand, an unseen mark that clearly spoke of something akin to ownership.

Teeth clashed and tongues battled, fingers tangled in sweaty hair and lips moaned wantonly. The microphone cord was coiled around Billie's throat like a venomous snake, and pleas broke from his lips as teeth nipped harshly at a defined collarbone, and hands roamed freely, discovering, claiming as if they owned each other. 

There was a passion that couldn't be explained that crackled between them, red lightning against a crystal ebony sky. The stage lights captured the only moment they were allowed to keep: desperation, passion, hunger. A vicious lust for one another, and a perilous lack of control and care. 

Burning, blistering, bleeding. The thunder clap that rises in one's eyes that says "I am yours", and the fury in the other's kiss that says "Yes, mine and only mine."

Ownership. 

Passion. 

Red.


End file.
